Wrong Place, Wrong Time Part 31

Lowering her gaze, Devon studied their clasped hands. "I apologize in advance if I offend you, but I have to ask someone or I'll burst."

"Go on."

"I didn't know Mr. Rhodes. Maybe he was a fine man and I'm reaching. But the timing of his suicide...is it possible he's the one who murdered your uncle, and the guilt was too much for him?"

James shrugged. "I'm not offended. You'd have to be a fool not to wonder if the incidents are connected. The truth is, I just don't know. Philip felt guilty about something, that's for sure. It could have been strictly financial. On the other hand, it could have gone deeper. The idea that he murdered Frederick turns my stomach. But I can't swear that he didn't." A pause. "What does your father think?"

"He won't tell me anything. I guess he's trying to protect me. But it's not working." Devon tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "My mind's gone crazy this week. So many crimes and no solution to any of them." She looked up, her forehead knit with concern. "Was there any progress in figuring out who tried to sabotage you?"

"No. I didn't expect there to be. The people who do things like this cover their tracks well."

"You're more accepting than I am. Not only could you have been disqualified, you could have been hurt, or worse. How's your horse? Is he all right?"

"Future's fine. He got really spooked when Granger collapsed. He took off, bolted out of the ring. But my trainer calmed him down. I checked on him later in the day. He was back to himself."

"So were you, I hope."

"Yup. Good as new. Stomach bug gone."

Devon gave a resigned sigh. "Like I said Monday night at dinner, the show circuit is too rough for my tastes. I'll stick to healing animals. Oh, which reminds me, I met Dr. Vista this week. His work sounds fascinating."

That caught James off guard. "Where did you meet Vista?" he asked, his tone undeniably strained.

"At your stables. Twice. Once when I was searching for Chomper, and once when I was searching for Roberto. Both times I ran into Dr. Vista instead. And I'm glad I did. I learned a great deal."

"About?"

"Genetic consulting. It's an area I was totally unfamiliar with. I'm sure that lack of knowledge doesn't apply to you."

Tension creased James's forehead. "Actually, that's my grandfather's area. I don't get involved much."

Her brows rose in disbelief. "Ca.s.sidy was right. You are too modest. When it comes to anything horse-related, I'm sure your grandfather asks for your input. After all, you're the guy who's going to ride his way to a gold medal - probably more than once. Who better to consult on what qualities matter in a show horse?" Devon kept her expression open and friendly. "Dr. Vista mentioned acquiring specimens from a horse farm in Uruguay. Are the stallions there superior to the ones in Germany or the Netherlands?"

A startled look. "Vista discussed that with you?"

"Only in pa.s.sing. Why? Is it a secret?" Devon drew her fingers across her mouth in a zipping motion. "If so, my lips are sealed."

"It's not a secret." A rapid recovery. "We just like to keep our sources confidential. Otherwise, we'll tip the compet.i.tion."

"That makes sense."

James sipped his champagne. "So what else did you and Vista talk about?"

"That's about it. He was in a hurry. He drove off in that monster truck of his. Although 'drove off' is an exaggeration." Devon modified her words, weaving bits of truth into her fiction. "That Suburban is so weighted down it can barely crawl. I was afraid it would bottom out in the snow. There must be some serious equipment in there."

She was hoping for some sort of reaction.

She got it - subtle, but visible.

James's hand jerked, and a few droplets of champagne trickled down his chin.

He wiped them away, giving a tight cough.

"Are you all right?" Devon was eager to ascertain if James's reaction was due to her comment about Vista's truck.

"Fine," he a.s.sured her. "Just paying too much attention to you and not enough to the amount of champagne I'm drinking." A practiced smile - one that was visibly forced.

"I'm flattered." Devon wasn't letting this opportunity slip by. "Although my guess is you're more captivated by my words than you are by me."

The smile froze on James's face. "I'm sorry?"

"Dr. Vista's truck," Devon explained smoothly. "And his heavy-duty veterinary equipment." A resigned sigh. "You know, boys and their toys - nothing can compete."

"Yeah. Right." James took another sip of champagne. He set down his gla.s.s, roughly clearing his throat. "Maybe I should eat something."

"Of course." Devon's mind was racing as she prepared a plate of fruit and cheese. James was rattled. She'd definitely hit a nerve.

She handed him the plate. "Here. Enjoy."

"Thank you." He ate a cracker topped with Brie, chewing slowly, then swallowing. By the time the cracker was gone, his composure - and his charm - were fully restored. "You're wrong, you know. It is you I'm captivated with." He draped an arm over the back of the sofa.

Devon leaned forward and helped herself to a plate of food, aware that James wasn't just trying to seduce her, he was trying to change the subject. The latter wasn't a bad idea. She'd crammed a lot into the first hour. James's guard was up. She'd be wise to let some time pa.s.s before she touched on the next subject.

With that thought in mind, she lapsed into her warm, friendly mode, keeping just a touch of nervousness in her demeanor. She had to seem edgy about something, otherwise the culmination of this evening wouldn't fly.

The next hour pa.s.sed in pleasant conversation as she and James chatted about work, play, and general nothingness.

Translated: He was working up to getting her into bed.

She, on the other hand, was working up to getting him out the door - after she touched on her final point.

Intermission over.

"I can't stop thinking about what a close call you had on Wednesday." She gave a disconcerted shudder. "It upsets me terribly. I don't understand why someone can't find out who was responsible. Aren't there judges or people from that Antidoping Agency you mentioned who are in charge of things like that?"

James gave her an indulgent smile. "You're a sweetheart. I appreciate your concern. But don't hold your breath. The Antidoping Agency only goes whole hog when they choose to. Kind of like cops who let three speeders go by and then grab the fourth. Who knows what motivates them?"

"I guess." Devon still looked troubled. "Who administers the drug tests? Are they specially trained?"

"The labs that process them are, yes. As for the doping control officers, they file an application, pa.s.s a test, and get a territory. They're not in the medical field, if that's what you mean."

"Then any Tom, d.i.c.k, or Harry could apply. Some of them might be corrupt. And if they are, what would stop a rider or trainer from bribing them to fix the tests, or even to leak information on when the tests are scheduled to occur?"

A definite guardedness had settled over James. "Fixing the tests would mean swapping samples. I can't imagine that happening with so many people around. I guess it's possible. Anything's possible, bribery included. Like I said, this is a cutthroat industry - and a wealthy one. So, yeah, illegal stuff goes on."

"I'm sure. Not only that, but a sport like yours must breed all kinds of scandals. Alcoholism. s.e.x. White-collar crime." Devon raked a hand through her hair. "The doping control officers have all that wealth shoved in their faces while they're pulling down modest salaries. A lot of people would jump at the chance to make extra cash. Especially if they lived above their means or had a nasty habit to feed - say, compulsive gambling. What better provocation for blackmail?"

James spilled his champagne on the table, then grabbed his napkin and dabbed at the moisture. "Sorry about that."

"No problem." Devon cleaned up the mess. "I didn't mean to upset you. It just amazes me that the drug-testing process has so many loopholes. I feel horrible for you and for your groom."

"I'm not upset. But you do have quite an imagination."

"I'm a cop's daughter."

He shot her a quick look. "Did you conjure up that scenario out of thin air, or have you heard rumors I should know about?"

"Rumors?"

"About people taking bribes or squandering their money in casinos."

Funny he should mention casinos. She hadn't.

"Current rumors, you mean? No. And certainly none involving the show circuit, since I'm an outsider. Believe me, if I had, I'd make sure whoever did this to you was arrested. I'm just reflecting on stories my father's spouted over the years. I apologize."

"Don't." Relief flooded his face. Relief - and something more. "I enjoy hearing you stand up for me."

An abrupt shift in mood. A heightened sense of intimacy. James's fears had abated, and in his mind, he was back on track. On the road to seduction.

Warning bells sounded in Devon's head.

Sure enough, James plucked the champagne flute from her hand and set it down on the table along with his. "I think we've talked enough, don't you?"

He reached for her.

Devon would have leaped off the sofa if she hadn't been fully aware it would make James suspicious. Fending him off wasn't a concern. Monty had taught her self-defense when she was ten. But the wire - if James found it, she was screwed.

"Excuse me for a minute." She said it calmly, without blurting it out. Easing away from him, she rose. "I'll be right back."

Antic.i.p.ation glittered in James's eyes. "Of course."

Great. He thought she was readying herself for wild s.e.x.

Devon went to the powder room, checked on the microphone and transmitter. Still in place.

Fruit and cheese was not going to deter James. This interrogation had gone as far as it could. Time to call it a wrap.

Prepping for the last act, Devon pasted a contrite look on her face and walked back out.

James was lounging on the sofa, a suggestive gleam in his eye. "Welcome back."

She remained standing, launching into her speech without prelude. "We need to talk."

He patted the cushion beside him. "Didn't I just say that we've talked enough?"

"Yes. But trust me, we haven't." Devon rubbed her palms together. "This is my fault. I let it go too far. It's just that I really like you. And I'm not good at drawing a line in the sand."

One brow rose. "Are you about to tell me you're still not ready?"

"Yes. No. Not in the way you mean." She swallowed. "James, you're a fantastic guy."

Now he was frowning. "Why do I sense a 'but'?"

"Because there is one." She shifted uncomfortably. "I have to tell you something, now, before this gets totally out of hand."

"I'm listening."

"Blake and I...we're...we've become involved."

Icy silence permeated the room.

James just stared at her, his expression a literal version of the phrase if looks could kill.

"Since when?" he demanded.

"It just happened." Devon gave a helpless shrug. "We didn't plan it. It - "

"Yeah, I heard you," he bit out, rising from the sofa. "It just happened. When did you plan on telling me - in bed?"

Devon felt like kicking him in the groin. "Of course not," she forced herself to say as he glared at her. "I planned to tell you now, while we ate. It didn't occur to me that you'd move so fast."

"Obviously not as fast as my cousin."

"Don't be that way."

"Which way should I be - understanding? Next you'll be saying you want to be friends."

"The thought had occurred to me."

"Then get rid of it. I'm not ready to be that magnanimous. Not yet."

"I understand." Devon's tone was pained. "I'm sorry if I handled this badly. It wasn't to lead you on; it was to try to salvage some kind of relationship with you."

"Does Blake know you're seeing me tonight?"

She nodded. "I told him."

"And he was okay with it?"

"Not really," she answered honestly. "But he understood."

"Why shouldn't he? He won - again. That's the story of Blake's life." Eyes glittering with resentment, James stalked out of the living room and grabbed his coat and duffel bag. "There's no point in dragging this out," he announced from the doorway. "Let's just call it a night."

Devon followed him to the door. "I feel terrible about this. Especially if it hurts your relationship with Blake."

"Not to worry. I'll survive. As for Blake, nothing between us will change. It never does." James yanked open the door. "It's still early. You've got the house to yourself and half a bottle of Dom Perignon. Call Blake. I'm sure he'll be glad to pick up where I left off. Good night, Devon."

THE DRIVER OF the maroon coupe was dozing behind the wheel when James stalked out, jumped into the waiting limo, and took off.